One Night With A Prince (11 page)

“Indeed, she would,” Lady Hungate said tersely, as they finished the round with a surprising win for Gavin and Christabel. “Stokely is going to eat us for breakfast if you don’t attend better than this, Eleanor.”

To his and Christabel’s misfortune, Eleanor began to pay better attention at once. They’d had some luck with that last hand, but neither his skill nor their luck could continue the wins. Christabel’s playing simply wasn’t sophisticated enough to beat the likes of Eleanor and Lady Hungate. Nor did the other distractions in the room help—Talbot’s leering down her bodice, Markham’s lewd jokes, and Talbot’s wife kissing her lover with her husband right there in the room. It was a scene straight out of some obscene novel, and clearly Christabel couldn’t blot it out. More than once, she played out of suit, forcing him to ask if she didn’t have a card in suit after all. And her strategy for trumps was deplorable.

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Unfortunately, the more she lost, the worse she played. Unsurprisingly, the good widow Haversham was a sore loser, and in keeping with her tempestuous nature, she allowed her emotions to affect her playing. They lost the second game, and Eleanor sat back with a gloating grin. “Well, Byrne, I do hope Lady Haversham’s prowess in bed exceeds her prowess at whist. You’ll need her to console you after you lose every single rubber at Stokely’s house party.If he even invites the two of you, that is.”

Christabel bristled, but before she could say anything, Lady Hungate responded. “Don’t be an idiot, Eleanor,” the matron said coolly. “The woman is clearly only trying to lull you into letting down your guard at Stokely’s. You should know Byrne well enough to realize he’d never let his lust overtake his judgment. If he says the woman can play cards expertly, then she probably can.”

As Eleanor’s face fell, Gavin stifled a laugh. Leave it to Lady Hungate to punch holes in Eleanor’s armor. He couldn’t have done it better himself.

“They’ve found you out, Christabel,” he said smoothly. “Next time we play, you’ll have to show them your true mettle.”

After a second’s surprise, she fell right in with Lady Hungate’s lie. “Iwas showing them my true mettle,”

she said with a secretive little smile sure to give Eleanor pause. “I can’t imagine why Lady Hungate would think otherwise.”

“Let’s play again then,” Eleanor snapped, taking up the deck of cards. “I’d like to see this ‘true mettle’

of yours.”

“Certainly,” Christabel said mutinously.

Gavin wasn’t about to let her pride destroy the illusion Lady Hungate had so conveniently created. Taking out his watch, he made a show of examining it. “Sorry, Eleanor, but we’re done for tonight. I have to be at the club in a couple of hours, and before that I’d like to…escort Lady Haversham home.”

Eleanor scowled at him, but she knew his habits well enough to accept his reasons. Gavin’s favorite time for lovemaking had always been right before he left for the club. He’d often “escorted” Eleanor home…and right up to her bed, whenever her husband was dining with his own mistress.

“Very well,” Eleanor said, pouting. “Perhaps we’ll see you next Tuesday.”

“Perhaps,” he said noncommittally. He stood and rounded the table toward Christabel. “Shall we go, my sweet?”

She had the good sense not to gainsay him. “Of course.” She rose and took his arm. “Thank you, Lady Jenner, for a most enlightening afternoon.”

They’d already started for the door when Eleanor said, “And thank you, Lady Haversham, for clearing up a little question I had about your late husband.”

Bloody hell. He’d almost extricated them from this situation without incident. He tried to keep Christabel moving, but she halted, turning to face her adversary with a look of sheer belligerence. “Oh? What question is that?”

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Alarm bells rang in his head, especially when Eleanor skimmed her gaze down Christabel’s black-gowned form with clear contempt.

“Why he was always leaving his wife at home to run to town. I see now that he was only searching for more—” Eleanor paused to fluff her long blond hair with one hand “—stimulating company.”

Damn the bitch for her petty vindictiveness. Lady Hungate might have succeeded in covering up Christabel’s incompetence at cards, but in the process, she’d made Eleanor regard the widow as an enemy.

Gavin attempted to steer Christabel toward the door, but she wrenched free to stride right up to where Eleanor sat gloating.

“If your company is so wonderfully stimulating,” Christabel said, planting her hands on her hips, “then why did Byrne leave you forme ?”

Eleanor’s glee abruptly vanished. “Don’t be absurd, he did not—” She glanced to Gavin. “You couldn’t possibly have been dallying with this…this mouse when we were still…”

Gavin arched an eyebrow. “You’re the one who said I’m incapable of faithfulness.” Not waiting to endure more of her temper, he turned to Christabel. “Come, lass, I find myself direly in need of stimulation.”

They left Eleanor sputtering behind them.

But as soon as they were in the narrow hall, Christabel marched off toward the stairs like an officer hastening into battle.

He caught up to her at the top of the stairs. “Christabel—”

“Teach me to be an expert at whist,” she hissed.

He started to remind her that supposedly she already was, then thought better of it, considering her present mood. “All right.”

Lifting her skirts, she scurried down the stairs. “Teach me how to eviscerate that…that witch. I want her to lose so spectacularly that she can never hold her head up among you and your abominable friends again.” Tears welled in her eyes, tears she brushed away with furious swipes of her hand. “I want to humiliate her! I want…I want…”

“I’ll teach you whatever you wish.” He laid his hand in the small of her back to guide her toward the kitchen. “As soon as we’re away from here.”

That seemed to remind her that this was neither the time nor the place for such a discussion. She remained mute as he led them past the kitchen staff, and held her tongue while his tiger brought round his cabriolet.

But once he took up the reins, and they headed out into the night, she slumped in her seat and said, “I hate her! That…that horrible, wicked woman practically admitted that she’d been Philip’s mistress!”

“I seriously doubt that Eleanor ever spent one second in your husband’s bed,” he said smoothly. “She
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was merely trying to provoke you.”

“Do you think so? Really?” The hope in her voice set his teeth on edge. Faithful to her or not, Haversham didn’t deserve her concern.

Not that Gavin cared how she felt about her late husband. He didn’t. Not in the least. “Come now, can you imagine Eleanorever sharing the bed of a bad whist-player? And we both know Haversham couldn’t play whist to save his life.”

“But that Lieutenant Markham—”

“—plays almost as well as I do. When he isn’t seducing Eleanor.”

Shifting her gaze to the road ahead, Christabel chewed on her lower lip for a moment. Then she uttered a heartfelt sigh. “If it wasn’t Lady Jenner my husband took up with, then who was it?”

Ah, so thatwas the “other thing” she thought Haversham had come to London for. “Are you sure he took up with anybody?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

“If Haversham had a mistress, I never met her.”

“He must have been discreet.”

“Then how doyou know about it? It isn’t the sort of thing a man tells his wife.”

“I heard about it from…someone else.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter. The point is, I know that he had one.”

“Did you learn about it before Haversham died?”

She shook her head. “After.”

“Then you don’t know if it’s true. You can’t even ask him, and you only have that other person’s word for it.”

“What possible reason could the…person have for lying?”

“You’d be surprised by the reasons people have for lying.”

She sighed. “After tonight, I don’t think anything would surprise me.”

She was such an innocent, despite her marriage, despite her travels abroad, and despite her recent disillusionment about Haversham. She had no clue how dark a place the world could be. She’d never seen a man gutted for not paying the blacklegs, or women whose love of gin so consumed them that they allowed their children to starve, or—

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Bloody hell, what had brought all that to mind? He’d put those days well behind him. “I did warn you what to expect of Stokely’s friends.”

“I know.” She stared over at the newly rising half-moon. “And that’s more than I did for you.”

He made the turn onto her street. “What do you mean?”

“I should have warnedyou that I can’t…that I’m not…” She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “I lied to you about being good at whist.”

“Did you?” he said dryly. “I hadn’t guessed.”

He heard her snort even over the horses’ hooves beating the cobblestones. “I couldn’t have played worse if I’d tried.”

“Ah, but you did try. Didn’t you hear Lady Hungate?”

A reluctant smile touched her lips. “I can’t believe she thought I was doing it on purpose. Your friends have very devious minds, all of them.”

“Yes, they do.” He didn’t bother to enlighten her about Lady Hungate’s true motives, especially since he wasn’t quite sure what they were.

A long silence fell. Finally, she said in a low voice, “The thing is…I’ll need money to gamble with, and as you probably know—”

“Haversham left you with little.”

“Exactly. He paid you with what he got from Lord Stokely, but he had so many other debts…” She trailed off with a sigh.

He clenched his jaw. The fact that she’d been left struggling because of her heedless husband’s gambling gnawed at him. “It was my idea to have you go as my partner, so I’ll take care of your part of the stakes.”

He could feel her eyes riveted on him. “What if I lose too much?” she asked. “I’m not the player that you are. Perhaps you shouldn’t partner me in whist after all. I could just pretend to be your mistress—”

“That might not ensure that Stokely invites you to his party. But if you’re my partner, he’ll almost certainly do so. So it’s best to hedge our bets and have you be both.” Drawing the cabriolet up in front of her town house, he brought it to a halt, then leaped down. “Besides, I thought you wanted to eviscerate Eleanor.”

A fierce light sparked in her eyes as he helped her down. “I do.”

“Then I’ll simply have to teach you to be an expert at whist.” He offered her his arm. “Beginning tonight.”

Her gaze shot to his. “But…but I thought you had to go to your club.”

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“Not for a couple of hours. That’s plenty of time for a lesson.”

“Here?” she said uncertainly.

“Not on the street,” he quipped, “but your parlor would be suitable. Of course, it has been a long day for you, so if you don’t have the energy to play well into the night like Eleanor and the others—”

“No, no, I can do it.” The door at the top of the entrance stairs opened, and she let him lead her inside, where the footman took her pelisse and her bonnet. “Just let me get the cards from Philip’s old study.”

“Certainly,” he said, handing his overcoat and hat to the footman. Trying not to grin, he headed for the parlor. So Eleanor and her silly taunts about Haversham had touched a sore spot, had they? He would make good use of the widow’s competitive streak. Because one way or another, he meant to have Christabel. And every single one of her secrets.

prelude to seduction.

—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress

Christabel fetched the cards and headed back to the parlor, then froze just outside the door. Dear Lord, perhaps letting Byrne into her home so late at night was a mistake. He’d clearly been aroused by her sitting on his lap earlier. What if he tried to act on it?

She mustn’t let him stay. She would tell him she’d changed her mind. But when she entered the parlor to find that he’d already pulled the card table out from the wall and set chairs before it, she faltered. He did have a point about hedging their bets. She did need to learn how to play better if she was to partner him. And they didn’t have much time before the house party…

“You found the cards?” He seemed oblivious to the intimacy of the small room where earlier he’d seen her half-dressed.

Surely if he were bent on seduction, he wouldn’t be sitting down at her card table. And it wasn’t as if he could stay the night—he had his club to hurry off to.

“Yes.” She set the deck on the table. Still nervous, she stood there uncertainly. “Would you like some refreshment? Wine? Brandy?”

“No. And none for you either.”

She blinked. “Why not?”

He shuffled the cards, then pushed them toward her for her to cut. “I’ll let you in on a secret. Half of winning at cards consists of staying sober when no one else is. It gained me many a trick when my cards were against me. I learned that from General Scott. He won two hundred thousand pounds at whist primarily by abstaining from drink at the tables at White’s.”

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“Oh.” She sat down. If Byrne were so bent on winning that he would eschew strong drink, then he clearly wasn’t thinking about seduction. She cut the cards, then handed them back to him, intrigued when he began to deal two piles. “How can we do this when we don’t have four people?”

“We’ll play two-handed whist. The strategy is different, but it will teach you how to use your trumps more effectively. That was your weak area tonight.”

“I see.” She squelched a niggling disappointment at his focus on the cards. She didn’twant him to try seducing her, for pity’s sake. Not at all.

“For the first few hands we won’t keep score, and after each trick, I’ll tell you how you might have improved your play. Once you’ve grasped the rules, we’ll play a real game with real stakes.”